Familiarity
by carino2
Summary: Is it only opposites that attract? A short story in two parts. Contains SLASH and a weird ship, and rated accordingly.
1. Vanity

**A/N When I started with this piece, I had no idea where it was going to go. I just had this idea for a crazy ship and decided to run with it. I think of it as a more fun piece, probably just because it's not as serious as most of the rest of the stuff I've been writing. However, I'm new at this sort of thing and I'm not sure how well I did this. It was a bit hard to write something _this_ weird, to be honest. Therefore, if you see anything wrong with it, don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks!**

Familiarity is said to breed contempt, but that's a lie.

There was something about the almost vain flip of the hair that made me relax. I know I must've done that exact thing a thousand times in my life. It was one of those things that could have been comical but ended up being endearing. Then there were the eyes, kept carefully detached. So familiar, but somehow so alien.

It was impossible to tell if he was thinking the same things I was. Though we were alike on the surface, I had no idea who he was underneath. I admit, the mystery aroused my curiosity. There was part of me that felt a need to be closer to the person I wished I was.

I wonder still if the same thing drew him to me.

He was so much more interesting than I can ever hope to be. My main attribute seemed to be my feigned aloofness. Yeah, there was also the impressively rugged appearance, but was that what he would want? I looked damn good when I was groomed, but I couldn't change myself now.

In spite of the fact that I had originally drawn his eye, I became suddenly self-conscious. I knew I wasn't good enough. He had been taught that everyone inferior was only worthy of his scorn, and when compared, I was obviously second-rate. My hair was tangled; my skin had been hardened from years spent in the wind, sun, and rain. In my own way, I was perfect, but did I define perfect for him as well?

Vanity is my only flaw.

I suppose our likenesses ensured that we'd get along. Maybe my coarseness was, to him, inviting. If similarities create sparks, then do trivial differences fan the flames?

I hated myself for my naïveté about these things.

I still thank whatever Gods there may be that he wasn't put off by my uncertainty. I was surprised to find that the self-consciousness was a part of him as well, though he had far less reason for it than I. The concept of me being a softer person was actually exciting.

Seeing myself that way—I'll never forget it. I made a vow to become that person someday, because then nothing would separate the two of us. Only then could I be worthy of my potential. I needed to learn compassion, temper pride with modesty, and learn how to act around other people.

Our differences burned me, but I dared explore them further.

There was more to life than I'd previously thought.


	2. Insecurity

My lifetime of training never prepared me for something like this

Who I was raised to be and who I'd become were two completely different people.

It was apparent in the way he held himself that he was confident. I walked in the same way, but only because I'd been told to. That half-arrogant toss of the head was a habit of mine as well. The only difference was that to me, it had been taught.

My whole life I'd been searching for an identity to call my own. I wished that I knew how to be original, rather than a cheap mockery. There was no way I could have measured up. How could I have, since I'd never been given any choice? Would that have been me, so rugged and scarred? Would freedom have turned me into a superhero rather than pop-punk pretty boy? I craved experience.

My lack of everything important made me expect to be treated with contempt. After all, I was nothing compared to him. But somehow, impossibly, there was no disdain present. Another emotion was close underneath those closed black eyes. If not scorn, then what was he hiding? Jealousy? Disgust?

Maybe it was closer to what I felt, though I'm not sure why it would have been. Was there a spark of admiration waiting for a sign to ignite?

I wanted to know.

I wanted to hear the story behind every scar. To ask for confirmation of the rumors. To learn what he must've discovered in all his years outside.

I wanted to know the every muscle he'd developed, to explore his perfect flaws.

I wanted to become like him by defying and breaking down every barrier they'd erected around me.

For my whole life, I'd been taught to hate myself. They'd intended me to despise the vanity, the introversion, and the tendency for theatrics. Somehow, they hadn't noticed that I had become what they wanted to eliminate.

The familiarity broke the first walls down for us, and we busted through the rest by ourselves. Freedom was dangerous, but tasted so sweet. I found the rebellion inside of me and broke it out of its cage. I conquered my fears and gave my feelings free reign. I lost every speck of modesty they'd ever tried to instill. I was willing to do anything to learn what I should have known before; I needed to find out who I had to be.

When ice meets ice, it ends up consumed in fire.

He showed me the price of independence.


End file.
